The symbol for shoshin.
Undoing the belief that mastery is the goal can enable you to truly unleash your creative potential.
The great Zen master Shunryū Suzuki once said, “In the beginner’s mind, there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s, there are few.” Reflect for a moment on how we spend the majority of our lives constantly accumulating, winnowing, and refining, with the majority of our efforts geared towards attaining greater and greater efficiency through massive repetition, which in turn deeply ingrains habits. This is considered to be the path towards mastery. But it is also the path towards fewer and fewer choices, an unconscious reliance on those ingrained habits (the good and the bad), and diminishing creativity.
Over the last several years, I’ve written about a wide variety of topics related to audio, gear, and vintage and modern recording techniques. This time I’d like to shift focus and talk about the real drive for everything—creativity—as well as share some thoughts on words like “mastery” and “expertise.” Tighten up your belts, the Dojo is now open.
Having music-making gear and the knowledge of how to use it is always valuable and continually needed, but it will all lie dormant unless you have that creative “spark” and are feeling inspired to make art. How do we stay creative? And moreover, how can we make progress on our journey towards becoming an expert, and possibly a master?
“Expert” and “master”: Let me parse out the meaning of those two words. In my humble estimation, their concepts are galaxies apart. One is attainable; the other, not. Both are something you should never call yourself. If others use those terms when describing you, you should be curious as to whom they are talking about!
For me, the word “expert” describes someone who has attained a tremendous amount of experience (and hopefully wisdom) in a particular field of activity. The word “master” is problematic for me. Mostly because it carries with it significant cultural baggage and an implied perspective that no further effort is necessary—everything possible has been grasped, judged, and assimilated—end of story.
“In my humble estimation, their concepts are galaxies apart. One is attainable; the other, not.”
If there is one thing I’ve learned so far in my musical journey, it’s that I’m a perpetual student and I must always be aware of and be willing to break those deeply ingrained habits I’ve developed along the way towards becoming an “expert.” There is a term in Zen Buddhism called “shoshin” (meaning “beginner’s mind”), and it is something that I always strive to maintain (even though I catch myself slipping back into old habits all the time). The beginner’s mind is open to any possibility, free of habits and self-judgment, flexible, activated, and simultaneously innocent and wise. Here are some creative strategies that can shake things up and help you stay in touch with your beginner’s mind.
Embrace curiosity. Remember the feeling of wonderment and awe when you first started playing and didn’t know your scales, modes, and chords? Recall how you were always curious and trying new things because there were no rules to follow? Play like a total beginner.
Think divergently. Allow yourself the freedom to brainstorm as many ideas as possible without judgment or other forms of editorializing. Give yourself permission to really imagine.
Forget about results. Let yourself go and enjoy the process. Remember that the point of a journey is not the arrival!
Embrace failure. Give yourself the permission to fail. Breakthroughs come from taking risks and stepping outside your comfort zone. If you’re not failing, you’re not trying new things.
It’s not a competition. Stop comparing yourself to others and create from a pure place of joy and expression rather than trying to compete with your heroes.
Relieve pressure. This is a big one that I unconsciously fall into. Treat each work as a snapshot of your musical journey and evolution rather than assuming it’s your magnum opus that will define you for all eternity. Think of your baby pictures and yearbook photos, and then look at yourself now.
Record the process. Be sure to record everything as you try these techniques. I’ll be willing to bet that you’ll inevitably play something in the heat of the moment that will surprise and delight you. Knowing that those moments are already being recorded takes any pressure off of you to remember exactly what you did. Besides, those moments become invaluable as they can lead you to greater exploration and discovery afterwards.
These are just some ideas for you to experiment with and build upon to help supercharge your creativity and keep the red light glowing!
Until next time, namaste.
Intermediate
Intermediate
- Gain an understanding of what raga rock is and how it developed.
- Learn how to mix modes to create harmonic and melodic ambiguity.
- Experiment with uncommon fingerings and scale patterns.
In early 1965, while the Beatles were filming their second movie, Help!, George Harrison became fascinated by the sitar during a scene in which the Fab Four go to an Indian restaurant. Later, during the summer of that year, David Crosby (then of the Byrds) gave Harrison a Ravi Shankar album, thereby solidifying Harrison’s interest in Indian music, and providing us the English/American connection. Finally, in the fall of 1965, Harrison would record himself playing sitar on “Norwegian Wood,” more or less initiating the raga rock style.
Coincidently, also in the summer of 1965, the Yardbirds recorded “Heart Full of Soul,” which originally had a sitar player booked for the session. According to Jeff Beck, as he demonstrated the song’s hook for the sitarist, Beck himself realized that he could play the part better–exaggerating the vibrato and bends to mimic the sitar. More on that later.
One last detail before we proceed: One of the clichés of raga rock is to simply add traditional Indian instruments to a recording–sitar, tabla, tamboura, etc. You’ll hear this in countless songs recorded between 1965 and 1969. This lesson will have none of that. Instead, the examples here take Indian musical techniques and approaches and apply them to the guitar (and to a lesser degree the accompaniment). In my opinion, this is the best of raga rock–stylistic influence, not artless impersonation. There is also a certain naiveté in the finest of this music: While George Harrison went on to study Indian music seriously with Ravi Shankar, others were interested in creating a general atmosphere that could be gleaned from listening and experimentation. Most of the examples demonstrated here highlight those attributes.
A Raga Rock Timeline
One of the best places to start with Raga Rock is the relatively simple D major scale exercise found in Ex. 1, which comes directly from a video of George Harrison demonstrating the basics of sitar techniques, while Ravi Shankar watches.
What makes this example Indian-influenced is the fact that the scale is played entirely on one string, moving up and down the fingerboard (as opposed to over or across) and it keeps pedaling back to the open D string. The vibrato is also exaggerated throughout. It’s worth pointing out that Harrison clearly fumbles at the beginning of the exercise–even Beatles slip up!
Ex. 2 takes this scale-on-one-string idea one step further (as several of this lesson’s specimens will) by mixing modes while droning the D string throughout. Inspired by Paul McCartney’s solo on “Taxman”, this phrase uses both the major 7 (C#) and the b7 (C natural) in measure two, while emphasizing the b3 (F natural) in measure three and, conversely, the major 3 (F#) in measure four. This modal mixture is a hallmark of raga rock.
As mentioned in the introduction, another early example of Indian-influenced guitar phrasing is Jeff Beck’s playing on the Yardbird’s “Heart Full of Soul”. Thus, Ex. 3 imitates Beck imitating the sitar, with exaggerated bends and vibrato. Once again over a D drone, this time implying a D Mixolydian sound. Note: In order to keep the drone ringing, you’ll need to pull all the bends toward the floor and away from the D string, as opposed to a stereotypical blues bend.
Though the song was composed by David Crosby, it was Roger McGuinn who played the solo on the Byrds “Why,” using his ubiquitous 12-string Rickenbacker. Influenced by “Why,” Ex. 4 is another one-string solo that’s fun to play whether you own a 12-string or not, as it’s the phrasing and subtle mode mixing–major 7 (D#) in measure three but b7 (D natural) in measure seven that contribute to this lead’s raga sound
Inspired by a slightly more obscure sample of raga rock, Ex. 5, emulates the Dovers’ “The Third Eye” which displaces the idea of the droning open string from low to high. In this case, the high E string rings open throughout the solo. Unlike all the previous examples, this one is played over a two-note groove, rather than a one-note drone.
Similar to Ex. 5, Ex. 6drones a high open string, the open B. In this study, one can hear shades of the Rolling Stones’ “Paint It Black”, which, thanks to the Im to V accompaniment, also has an Eastern-European feel to it.
Ex. 7’s “proto-neo-classical-jam-band” sound copies the amazing Butterfield Blues Band’s “East-West” (composed by Mike Bloomfield and Nick Gravenites). This heavy groove driven solo emphasizes half-steps (a raga rock trademark), mixing both D Phrygian and D Double Harmonic Minor scales throughout.
Lastly, Ex. 8, based on the Kinks’ “Fancy,” plays with the unique idea of a pseudo-Drop D tuning. I write “pseudo” as the guitar’s low E tuning machine is being used to create the unstable “bends” from low D up to E, adding to the psychedelic sound. Furthermore, the melody is harmonized in 5ths, which, while not traditionally an Indian tonality, does evoke the Far East, which raga rockers are inclined to do, not confining themselves to one locale. Parts one and three of this example are once again played on a 12-string.
Raga Rock from the 1960s to Today
If you’re looking for more raga rock, there are plenty of examples that go beyond the scope of this lesson (more routinely containing the aforementioned use of traditional Indian instruments, which I avoided, or alternate tunings). Most notably from the 1960s are “Om” the Moody Blues, “Maker” the Hollies, “Smell of Incense” West Coast Art Experimental Band, and “Defecting Grey” the Pretty Things (which also contains a brief section of thrilling, extremely heavy [for 1968], noisy, pre-punk music). And the tradition continues to this day, with far too many contemporary (mostly underground) acts to list here. Needless to say, raga rock will surely continue as a genre, with plenty of techniques, melodies, and rhythms for future generations to mine.
Beginner
Intermediate
- Develop a deeper understanding of the sound of each mode.
- Learn several different ways to create modes.
- Improvise over simple vamps that outline the defining characteristics of each mode.
This lesson assumes you already know your way around the diatonic scale and its various fingerings. Hopefully this will provide myriad tonal colors you have yet to utilize from within those same patterns. Most of us go through three steps before modal knowledge is of practical use.
Three Phases to Understanding the Modes
Phase 1
This is the introduction to the modes many of us receive:
The Ionian mode is the major scale.
The Dorian mode is a major scale starting on the 2nd degree.
The Phrygian mode is a major scale starting on the 3rd degree.
The Lydian mode is a major scale starting on the 4th degree.
The Mixolydian mode is a major scale starting on the 5th degree.
The Aeolian mode is a major scale starting on the 6th degree.
The Locrian mode is a major scale starting on the 7th degree.
While this is all true, once you memorize that the obvious question becomes, “Yeah, so what?” And that’s an excellent question. Since we’re always referencing a “parent” major scale, you can recycle your diatonic fingerings. You’ll also arrive at the correct answer on your test in guitar school—but it’s not anything that you’ll likely use to make actual music.
Phase 2
This phase provides a little more clarity. This explanation compares the difference in each mode from the basic major scale. In fact, most all scales are described relative to a major scale. For example, a major pentatonic scale is a major scale minus the 4th and 7th degrees.
The anatomy, or intervallic structure, of each mode is more clearly described via this explanation. It goes like this:
The Ionian mode is the major scale. (Old news from Phase 1.)
The Dorian mode is a major scale with a b3 and b7.
The Phrygian mode is a major scale with a b2, b3, b6 and b7.
The Lydian mode is a major scale with a #4.
The Mixolydian mode is a major scale with a b7.
The Aeolian mode is a major scale with a b3, b6 and b7.
The Locrian mode is a major scale with a b2, b3, b5, b6 and b7.
All of this is also correct but knowing this is still little more than a badge of honor in a round of Trivial Pursuit.
Phase 3
Phases 1 and 2 are useful for attaching these fancy names to collections of notes and knowing where to place your fingers. Phase 3 turns these abstract concepts into sounds that don’t require a slide rule or decoder ring to figure out what notes you’re supposed to play.
In Phase 3, we don’t trace each mode back to a major scale. Each mode is now its own thing. It’s its own key. It’s its own sound.
To get to this place of modal nirvana we need to be able to hear these scales as chords versus bothering with all of this math contained in the first two phases. Let’s make a chord progression, or vamp that aurally represents each modal sonority.
For our examples we will use an A pedal tone in the bass. A will be the tonic of each of our seven modes. We’ll begin with the A Ionian mode (A–B–C#–D–E–F#–G#). We’ll now take the IV and V chords and play them on top of the A pedal as in Ex. 1. (The written examples show a simplified version of what’s on the audio track. The point isn’t for you to copy my rhythm parts, but to easily understand the harmonic movements.)
This is a tidy package that you now play your major scale over. Record yourself playing this and then play the A major scale over it. This won’t require much ear stretching as you’ve likely heard this sound your entire life. This is a nice progression that is an effective chordal representation of the mode.
Ex. 2 utilizes the same method to achieve an A Dorian sound (A–B–C–D–E–F#–G). A Dorian’s parent scale is G Major. The IV and V chords of G major are C and D. Play the C and D triads over our A pedal tone and relish the Dorian vibe. Some might catalog this in their mind as having a Santana sound. While the notes are the same as those found in the key of G Major, we’re playing A Dorian. A is the root—not G. That is part of what we’re doing here: Relate to the scale on its own terms. Improvising on this vamp will reinforce that in your ear and you’ll have a recognizable sound vs. a formula.
The parent scale of A Phrygian (A–Bb–C–D–E–F–G) is F major. Seeing the method unfold? Take the IV and V chords from F (Bb and C) and superimpose them over an A bass note to arrive at Ex. 3. Assign your own adjective to the sound you’re creating.
Each of the modes has a distinct mood doesn’t it? It could be argued that the modes should be called the moods.
Next up is the A Lydian mode (A–B–C–D#–E–F#–G#). A Lydian is the fourth mode of E major so let’s take the IV and V chords, A and B, and play them over our A bass pedal (Ex. 4). You may associate this sound with the theme song from The Simpsons or Tom Petty’s “Here Comes My Girl.”
Have you noticed that even though our “bass player” has been playing a single note this entire time we are arriving at drastically different A sounds? This is how players like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai keep solos interesting over longer periods of time while the harmony is static. The harmony is changing via the soloists’ note choice and requires no one else playing chords.
Moving on to A Mixolydian (A–B–C#–D–E–F#–G) in Ex. 5. A is the 5th degree of a D Major scale and the IV and V chords of D are G and A. Jeff Beck’s “Freeway Jam,” the Beatles’ “Day Tripper” or just about anything from the Grateful Dead or other jam bands exemplify this sound nicely.
Next is the A Aeolian mode (A–B–C–D–E–F–G) or natural minor scale. This is another one with which your ear will be immediately comfortable. This is the relative minor key to C Major. The IV and V chords from C are F and G. Let your cat walk across the white keys of your piano while playing Ex. 6 and even that will sound great.
Last up is A Locrian (A–Bb–C–D–Eb–F–G). This key is derived from Bb Major, the IV and V chords are Eb and F respectively and we get the introspective Ex. 7. Play the A Locrian scale and finally enjoy this mode that may have seemed so ugly before. It’s a beautiful sound—use it!
Hopefully this lesson provides a different, more useful way of hearing the modes instead of memorizing a cryptic note formula. Each mode is now its own key, not just a major scale starting on a different degree. Spend time with each of these examples and really listen to each note. Sure, blasting scales at hyper-speed can be fun, but this is more of a listening thing. Go slow and enjoy your new-found mastery of the modes. Oh yeah, you can also recycle or give away all of those books that keep describing Phase 1.